


when the moon kisses the ocean

by ZodiacRiver



Series: all the small words [5]
Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: Dancing, Domestic, F/F, Fluff, Purple Prose, Romance, romantic, slow dance, waltz
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-14
Updated: 2018-03-14
Packaged: 2019-03-31 06:37:14
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,115
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13969440
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ZodiacRiver/pseuds/ZodiacRiver
Summary: A sweet night spent slow dancing in the living room, and Mila feels warm.





	when the moon kisses the ocean

**Author's Note:**

> There is basically only one (1) thing I can write: slow dance. Yeah. That's it. Anyway, I quite like this one! It was written for the Heartbeats zine :)
> 
> Mila/Sara is one of my favorite pairings ever. I'm truly looking forward to see them more in the movie.

How Mila feels about Sara is too abstract and vast for any word in any language to describe; a perennial feeling that is not meant to be understood by human existence. However, it can be broken down into what Oscar Wilde poignantly and eloquently mentioned in _De Profundis_ : ‘the final mystery is oneself. When one has weighed the sun in the balance, and measured the steps of the moon, and mapped out the seven heavens star by star, there still remains oneself. Who can calculate the orbit of his own soul?’

 

Except that quote itself is a little different for Mila. It’s not at all about her. It’s about Sara. Who, in this wide, cruel world, is she? She’s not only a magnificent person—you find magnificent people everywhere. She is truly one of her kind, a dashing, powerful woman that has Mila’s head filled with euphoric cacophony every time she thinks of her, or sees her, or touches her.

 

And right now, at this moment, she’s doing all three. The electric current of love rushes in a steady stream in her arteries, and she feels pulses in strange places, such as her fingers and ear.

 

_Dub. Dub. Dub. Dub. Dub. Dub. Dub. Dub._

 

Mila knows how to dance. She’s a figure skater, after all. She knows how to produce slow, gentle gestures and make her body sway elegantly like a feather being blown by the breeze. Maintaining composure is too one of her talents. She needs it, of course. To stay collected and professional in the rink is key.

 

But not when Sara is gazing at her with those warm, brown eyes. Not when she has her arms securely wrapped around Mila’s waist, their foreheads and noses touching. In turn, her own hands were pressing slightly against the back of Sara’s neck, and she thinks all of this is so intimate, so much to that she’s in the verge of weeping.

 

How does this all even happen in the first place? Mila tries to recall, even though the only thing that swims in her mind are Sara, Sara and _only_ Sara.

 

Oh, right. They were watching TV in the living room, a cooking show that was supposed to be relaxing but as every minute passed, it became boring and the whole room, for some reason, was bathed in a romantic aura. Sara took her hand and dragged her up, saying in that almost sickly sweet voice of hers: “How about I take this dance?”

 

And who was Mila to refuse? With a visible blush across her cheeks and a lovely smile, she pronounced a “yes.” In the beginning, the dance was lighthearted and even somewhat carefree, with giggles accompanying their steps. Then, at one point, it became idle and emotional and accompanied with soft breaths instead of laughs.

 

It’s sort of a bizarre situation. They’ve done so much more than dancing. They’re hopelessly romantic all the time. It’s definitely not new for the two of them to be emotionally and physically close like this. Then, if that’s so, why is Mila restless? It just doesn’t add up.

 

She knows that she’s been staring too much when Sara’s eyelids suddenly flutters down. At first Mila guesses that she’s been closing her eyes, but she realizes that she was looking down, staring blindly at their moving feet.

 

_One, two. One, two._

Her ankle grazes the wall. Too close. Mila peeks her eyes open, and catches the sight of asters on the light blue wallpaper. It looks old, but romantic, particularly when the lighting is dim. Unconsciously, she smiles at herself, remembering how Sara told her that the wallpaper had reminded her of Mila.

 

She attempts to look for a word that suits the moment.

 

_Whimsical._

Is it whimsical? No, that mustn’t be it. Whimsical is a word that describes a situation that is bizarrely playful and fanciful. Imagine entering a vast kingdom garden, with a classic steel arch, wrapped in evergreen vine plant. Then there are bushes of roses. Soap bubbles emerge from its thorns, and fairies sit nicely on top of its freshly colored petals, blowing on their trumpets in harmony. At the center of the garden, a majestic water fountain stands. Golden toads (which smell like caramel and cranberry) croak proudly. Cats with sparkling silver hair and golden whiskers hop around, trying to pop the freely flying colorful bubbles.

 

 _And Sara, in a red satin dress, gently plucks a rose—startling a fairy in the process—then tucks it above my ear._ Mila smiles to herself. It’s good that in-between daydreams are able to distract her from the intoxicating spiral of being too in love.

 

“Mila,” she suddenly speaks, causing Mila’s heart to seemingly stop from its rhythmical beating. “You look _so_ beautiful.” Sara looks up, and if there were ever anything any person has ever done to express the word ‘love’ in body language, it would be how her eyebrows knits and her face softens. Sara’s expression is warm, and Mila immediately wants to cry.

 

She feels like a love letter. That’s a weird metaphor, but she decides that it’s true. Sara is unraveling her; the many pages of passion, and her eyes traces pretty words, written in clever cursive that declares affection and desire.

 

Sara’s hands slithers up from Mila’s waist, slowly. They make a stop only when they rest on her cheeks, cupping fondly. Mila leans in to the touch, craving for more and never wanting it to end. She feels that if, by chance, the world is ending in mere seconds, she won’t pay it any mind. A meteor could hit anytime now, or the planet explodes, or the grounds shake, but that should never be a problem for her.

 

Because all that matters is that Sara is kissing her, nice and slow. Mila’s stomach drops. She’s spinning, swirling, in a vast, bubbling pool of the dreading ecstasy of love, and it is the most wonderful feeling the heart can taste.

 

Mila inches closer, and in a blink of an eye, they were pressing against each other. They kiss, and kiss, until they are breathless and panting.

 

“You know,” Sara begins. “I really love you. I really, really love you.”

 

“I really love you,” Mila echoes.

 

“I love this. It’s late, and we are here, dancing like there is no tomorrow,” Sara’s laugh reverberated through Mila’s heart, knocking and pounding. “Are you tired?”

 

“Very. But I’m happy.”

 

“Then all is good,” her lips rendezvoused with Mila’s jaw.

 

Slowly, Sara hums a soothing melody. Her hands are back to where they are made to belong, and with a final kiss Mila gives on her nose, she leads the unforgettable night again.

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading!!! Please, I'd like to know what you think! =D


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